The House is like your Family
by the stargate time traveller
Summary: "The House is like your family." The most basic rule at Hogwarts. Only for Harry Potter, there's a definition of family which is the complete opposite of what many define the word as. A series of one-shots as Harry goes through his years, and becomes increasingly cynical about the magical world, Hogwarts, and family in general.
1. Chapter 1 Year One

I don't own Harry Potter. This series of one-shots are closely related to the other one-shot I wrote earlier, Why am I not Surprised? This is a work of fiction with my own personal spin on the character. Please let me know what you think, but please don't litter my inbox with saying this is cliche. I happen to like cynical Harry stories.

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The House is like your Family.

The moment the Gryffindors turned against him because he had tried to do the right thing for Hagrid, Harry had suddenly felt right at home. He had lost count of the number of times the Dursleys had accused him of some wrongdoing which wasn't even his fault since Dudley and his idiot friends had gone out of their way to cause trouble for him for the Dursleys.

Harry had always dreaded waking up in the morning because of his cousins antics. He was positive the elder Dursleys knew precisely what their son was doing, but since they loved punishing Harry for everything, it was doubtful they cared.

_And Hagrid said I would enjoy Hogwarts. _

Well, to be frank, Harry had indeed been enjoying Hogwarts; while Malfoy and Snape were annoyances he could have done without, especially given the Potion Master's habit of comparing him to his father, saying how James Potter was arrogant this and arrogant that although Harry actually thought the man, and he was using the word lightly since in Harry's mind a grown man would have grown up by now instead of letting some petty grudge get to him and go on for this amount of time, and Malfoy was just a pathetic spoilt loser with delusions of grandeur, he had been enjoying the school.

Thinking of Hagrid made Harry grimace.

He didn't want to get involved with taking the fall for the gentle giant of a man again. Eventually, Norbert, the little dragon would have burnt down the hut Hagrid lived in because Hagrid was simply too stupid to realise Norbert could breath fire. And his hut was made out of wood.

Dragon. Fire. Wood. Not exactly a good combination. And even if the little dragon didn't burn the hut down, what would happen when it started to grow. Harry had the feeling that although Hagrid might not get too many visitors on a daily or weekly basis, people would start to notice when the dragon started growing too big for the hut to handle.

But while Harry liked Hagrid, and loved him for putting the Dursleys in their place on that little ramshackle hut in the middle of the ocean, it was clear as day Hagrid had no common sense, and seemed to live in his own little world. He had certainly ignored Harry and Hermione's warnings; it was okay to dream about having a pet, but surely it would have been better if he had made preparations, but in Hagrid's mind everything was fine.

Absolutely dandy.

Except…it was not.

Now Hagrid seemed to realise the depths of some of his mistake. He was still in denial of having done anything wrong, but he hadn't really done anything as far as Harry was aware to help him and his friends get out of this mess. Either way, Harry wasn't really sympathetic. However, if this mess hadn't happened, then Harry would have probably never known just how much like the Dursleys the Gryffindors were, and how much of a bitch McGonagall was, and how she was no different deep inside compared to those teachers in primary school.

Judgemental and nasty.

Yep, just like the teachers.

And like the Dursleys, which wasn't a nice image for Hogwarts.

Why the hell was Malfoy _forever _trying to get him and the others into trouble? What was he doing, trying to prove himself better than others?

Harry didn't know and didn't care, but he was getting tired of the little blond bastard; if he wasn't careful, he might wind up dead.

But now he had a detention in the Forbidden Forest. Harry had heard stories ever since he had started at the school and heard of the Weasley twins various attempts to get inside, of what was in there, and all of the stories although some of them were likely exaggerated even if Harry was quickly starting to learn here there was some truth to rumours and stories.

He had heard enough to know there were things inside that forest that he truly wanted to avoid.

What the hell were the teachers thinking? Or did they even think at all? It didn't appear as if they did.

_It's funny, _he thought to himself, _when I came here everyone loved me simply because my parents died, and now I am a pariah. It's even worse with the Gryffindors since they're so taken in with this whole _Slytherins are evil, and we must fight them _crap, or more likely _I must fight them since I am this Boy Who Lived, _but now I've lost the House so many points they hate me. _

Harry wanted just wanted to withdraw from the Gryffindors as he did with the Dursleys, and pretend he simply didn't exist. Unfortunately, while the Dursleys preferred it if he wasn't even there, and liked to pretend he didn't exist and lashed out at him whenever something broke (usually because Dudley was a pig and loved getting him into trouble just for laughs), the Gryffindors would not let him try.

Harry had tried to get out of Quidditch. Wood wouldn't let him. The older boy had screamed at him, saying they could get all of those points back and that Harry should redeem himself. Quidditch wasn't any fun of course since the rest of the team made his life a misery and only referred to him as the "seeker" if they had no choice but to speak to him.

_If that keeps up, next year I will resign. Sure, the Gryffindors will probably hang me, or whatever these stupid people do if you displease them, but I don't care. I have had _enough. _These people are just as bad as the Dursleys. _

Hermione, Neville and Ron had it just as bad. Harry envied the first two; although they weren't as well known as Harry was, they had earned some scorn even if he received more flak.

It was Ron he couldn't work out.

Why the hell did the idiot not throw the letter he'd received from his brother Charlie who had the good fortune of being a worker in a dragon sanctuary? What, did he _miss _his brother so much he couldn't bear to part with it?

Harry didn't know and didn't care. He just wished he could be left alone. Unfortunately, he was learning very quickly, judging from what others were saying about his role as being the next Albus Dumbledore, the Boy Who Lived should be the perfect Gryffindor.

What he had done was not perfect.

These people had standards of their own, and he didn't like them.


	2. Chapter 2 Year Two

The House is like your Family.

As Harry stared at the dead body of the basilisk, only one thought was going through his mind while Tom Riddle gloated. _Why had he been so positive his second year would have been better?_

Had he really been so naive to think if he went in optimistic instead of pragmatic and sceptical, this year wouldn't have been even worse than the year before?

Okay, so he hadn't even guessed from last year that his next year at this stupid school would have begun to unfold in an even worse way for him than the whole year before the mess with the Philosopher's Stone began to evolve from a mystery to reality. In the month he had spent with the Dursleys away from the school when he wasn't trying to cope with Hedwig being locked up by those filthy muggles, Harry had been wondering what had possessed him to get involved in the first place; in his mind, he was still nothing special despite his titles, so why had he gone after the Stone?

At the same time, he also had to think about those obstacles. They could hardly be called obstacles if three first-year students could get through them, so they were nothing to an experienced wizard like Voldemort or Quirrell. There was something not quite right going on, especially since all of the obstacles were modelled on the skills of his so-called friends.

His relationships with both Ron and Hermione had started to fizzle out as the year had unfolded since he had begun paying more attention to them although truthfully he had been growing concerned about as the first year had gone by. Looking back he realised they had been the ones interested in discovering the mystery being the Philosopher's Stone.

They had been the driving force behind saving it. Not him.

They had also been quick to condemn him because he could speak parseltongue.

Harry sighed. How was he supposed to know speaking to snakes was considered to be a dark art? No-one was taking the time to give him the basic type of education and knowledge of the magical world, and it left him at a disadvantage. It was bad enough that stupid House-elf had not only stolen his mail even if at the time he was having second thoughts about Ron and Hermione, but Dobby had completely stripped away his only defence against the Dursley's abuse. Harry had long since become resigned to the fact he could scream he was being abused if he yelled it in the middle of Trafalgar square in muggle London, or in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley in the magical world, and no-one would believe him.

In a way, as much as he hated to admit it, Dobby actually had a good point that this year at Hogwarts was going to be dangerous and not even the presence of the _fabled _Gilderoy Lockhart could do anything about it, but the less said about that prancing con artist, the better.

Harry staggered down from the statue of the wizard he took to be Salazar Slytherin, although who else could it be? He was exhausted; fighting the basilisk using the conjured sword had been difficult, especially since he had tried to drive the sword through the snake's head. without getting himself killed by the fangs before he realised that he was wasting his time with the sword, and he'd transfigured it into a spear which not only did the job but gave him a longer reach but along the way, he had used the spear to slash off a piece of a fang. He used it to destroy the gloating vision of the young Voldemort (honestly, what was it about evil wizards? Why did they have to be the stereotypical bad guys and blab about their plans?).

As he watched Voldemort's younger incarnation scream in pain, bursting into bright white light, Harry thought about the last year dispassionately. He was eternally pleased he had already begun preparations for discovering how to escape from the magical world. All he would need to do was to get the OWLs and NEWTs and get perfect scores in both.

Even with Voldemort out there and something not quite right about Dumbledore, Harry knew as long as he kept his head down, he should be able to achieve his OWLs and NEWTs, and after he had discovered that book with the reference to the mind arts, it had been effortless in itself to discover their existence. All he'd needed to do was wait for a while until he ordered a book and had it sent to the Gryffindor dormitory, and now he was studying the mind arts religiously. He had come to realise Snape was looking into people's minds as he had continued to read the book, but he'd needed to figure out a way around that problem. Especially since Snape loved rummaging around in his own head.

Harry pushed that thought aside and thought for a moment about the year he'd had. Despite the mess with the sealed gateway in King's Cross, courtesy of Dobby, and the fiasco that came with it, Harry had to admit the first part of the year had actually been okay. Unfortunately, he had also let his guard down.

He had once more become too optimistic. It was becoming a bad habit. Complacency was his weakness, and it was something he needed to stamp out. Quickly, especially if he wanted to survive. While the discovery of the word mud blood was definitely disgusting since it went hand in hand with the type of racist slang muggles had, although given how in his first year he'd learnt how much some wizards hated muggles, it would not have been a surprise if they had something like that.

But it wasn't until the attacks on the muggle-borns which began with Filch's cat becoming petrified, and himself being found so close to it, Harry wondered if there was something deliberately planning on ruining his life. He had not verbally been accused of being the perpetrator of the attack on the cat, and then later on other muggle-borns, but he was being regarded with suspicion. It wasn't until that mess with the duelling club where he was found to be speaking parseltongue which Hermione had told him was a dark art, and the sign of a dark wizard thanks to information found in one of her stupid books, he realised once more he was in deep shit.

After months and months of being hexed, it wasn't until when Hermione herself had been found petrified, everyone - including the useless teachers, who'd turned a blind eye once more to the grief he went through - realised he wasn't responsible. Ironic, really; Hermione and Ron had been among the first people to abandon him. Well, he wasn't ever going to give them a second or third chance. No more. He'd had enough of the pair of them.

Finding out the creature responsible was a basilisk was easy since Hermione had joined the dots together by doing her research although he'd been doing the same thing, his results hadn't gotten him anywhere. Harry had considered a snake of some sort to be responsible, but a basilisk was nowhere near his list, and it made him wonder what had made Hermione look, and it also made him wonder if someone had given her the information. That bit about the pipes had seemed a bit off too since Harry knew although Hermione was smart, she wasn't that smart. There was no way she could have popped a creative answer like that out of thin air.

No, someone had given it to her.

A gasp caught his attention and he looked down at the small form of Ginny Weasley. Harry grimaced as he looked at her, remembering all the looks she had given him, from the looks of lust, odd for an eleven-year-old, and revulsion when his parseltongue ability came out.

He was not going to look forward to this.


	3. Chapter 3 Year Three

Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter.

Let me know what you think.

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The House is like your family.

As he watched his godfather flying Buckbeak the Hippogriff away into the night sky, Harry Potter leaned against the wall tiredly although he knew he couldn't stay here for the rest of the night since sooner or later someone would realise Sirius was gone.

And yet…at the same time, Harry had problems assimilating the fact he had a Godfather. After spending years and years of being alone, and abused by the Dursleys and everyone else in the muggle world, it was hard for him to accept that he had someone out thereafter he had spent the best part of his childhood learning to depend on no-one but himself while he had listened to the Dursley's propaganda about himself and his parents while at the same time working out what he could do in order to escape.

In comparison to the last two years where he'd been blamed for things he'd either not been responsible for or had simply been matters beyond his control, Harry's third year at Hogwarts hadn't really been so bad. True, he had escaped from his relatives when he had heard Aunt Marge was coming for a self-invited stay at Number 4. Harry had needed to leave the Dursleys before Marge came although he had told his aunt he was leaving, the fact was he had escaped and he went into London where he stopped off at the Leaky Cauldron. He hadn't really cared he was missing out on going to the village at Hogsmeade. Why would it matter at the end of the day if you had permission or not?

How the hell was he supposed to know when he stayed there for a night a prisoner had escaped and Fudge took an interest in him? Harry had never really had a good impression with the Minister, so he had been suspicious, especially since the Minister had several Aurors trailing behind him, but when he'd asked questions or tried to…well it was just like being back in Privet Drive really; none of them answered his questions, instead they had told him they would protect him.

Unfortunately, the Aurors weren't that bright.

One visit to Gringotts was enough to let him know who Black was, and why he was considered such a problem. Harry remembered leaving the bank shaken and disturbed by the news.

Black was his godfather? And he had been the Death Eater responsible for handing his parents over to Voldemort on a platter.

Worse, he quickly realised no-one was planning on telling him the truth. Harry didn't understand the point. Did they think he was a stupid five-year-old who couldn't handle the truth?

In the end, he had decided to simply let them keep their secrets. If they wanted to play these games, he'd let them. It meant nothing to him, really, but at the same time, he was curious about why they would keep secrets of this magnitude? Surely it occurred to some of them he'd try to discover the truth, and yet in the magical world curiosity seemed to be lacking since none of the students at Hogwarts seemed concerned with the world around them.

Once he had found out about that, Harry had purchased a number of books on curses and more advanced magic while he held the idea in his mind of training himself when he returned to the school. Harry had been planning on it anyway since he had known he would need to be prepared in case the students and the staff turned on him again, but while he knew he would need knowledge of more painful spells in his repertoire if he was going to be strong enough to defeat a Death Eater, he felt he could handle that at Hogwarts when he gained access to the library. It was simplicity in itself to deal with the alarm spell, and besides, he made a plan to con a teacher into giving him permission to grab a couple of books from the library's restricted section if he needed to. And Madam Pince never bothered to ask questions whenever someone asked to grab a book from there.

Anyway, after encountering the Weasley family and ignoring Mrs Weasley's interference in trying to get him and Ron back together as friends which was never going to happen given what Ron had done the year before, Harry had to endure Mr Weasley telling him not to go after Black. Harry had known from the moment he had been refused answers there were people pulling the strings, so he knew it was impossible to get answers, so he didn't even try.

The journey to Hogwarts was as much as he expected. On the one hand, those who had turned on him - Hermione and Ron among them - had tried to apologise for what they'd done wrong the year before, but he wasn't having it; some of them had derided him, of course, claimed he was childish, but he hadn't given them the time of day. Harry had simply remembered a lesson he'd picked up in the muggle world.

You cannot trust anyone.

You are on your own.

It was that simple.

However, the arrival of the Dementors on the Hogwarts express had shaken him, but what had surprised him the most was the new Defence professor actually caring about him to the point where he'd banish the demons and give him some chocolate to help him recover.

At Hogwarts, Harry had needed to live with the awful knowledge the prison guards of the wizarding prison were at the school because of him, and he needed to discover ways of how he could stop them affecting him. He was shaken, particularly when he heard the news later, that the woman he was hearing was Lily Potter, his mother, every time he was near the demonic things.

At the same time, Harry had taken to studying Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Someone had played games and put him into Divination, changing his electives for him, and while Hagrid was great as a teacher….Harry's thoughts on the half-giant were mixed; on one hand, he accepted the guy was a great friend to have, but at the same time he was essentially a man-child who loved big, dangerous magical creatures.

But truthfully the mess with Buckbeak and Malfoy wasn't intentional on Hagrid's part.

Harry grimaced as he remembered how, while he was hiding himself using a notice-me-not charm after learning from the rough time he'd had in his prior two years at school, he had tried to find some legal loophole to stop the Malfoys from killing Buckbeak. He wished he had some way of travelling back into the past and telling his younger self to drag Malfoy away from the Hippogriff before Buckbeak could slash Malfoy.

But that wasn't likely to happen.

Anyway, he wasn't the only one. He had no choice but to work with Hermione Granger on the project. They had worked for days and days to help Buckbeak, and in that time Harry had made his plans to quit the Quidditch team. Unfortunately Wood had begged him to stay on because it was his last year, and he wanted to go out on a high.

Harry, hating the manipulation since Wood was desperate, had relented.

He'd regretted it, though. The Dementors had attacked the game. He fell to the ground. His broom was destroyed by the Whomping Willow. Just another game at Hogwarts. Figures.

Harry had made his mind up when he had been in the Hospital Wing. He was going to quit once the year was out, and he didn't care how the rest of the Gryffindors took it. He was not going to die in a game where he could be pummelled to death by two balls which smashed into people with the force of a small wrecking ball, nor was he going to wait for either a teacher to curse his broomstick, for a House elf to sabotage the game, or Dementors to affect him so drastically, and if they thought he was well they were even stupider than he'd suspected.

Getting Professor Lupin to give him the lessons to cast the Patronus charm proved to be harder than he'd expected, but in the end, Harry had managed to make the man agree, and on top of the self-taught lessons he was taking in other subjects, and helping with Buckbeak's case. Learning the Patronus charm was harder than he'd expected since he needed happy memories, but since they were thin on the ground in his case, he had needed to improvise.

Strangely, Lupin had been upset when Harry had told him bluntly he didn't have any happy memories, but he had pushed that aside and focused on his work.

When Christmas came around - oh, he wished he could sometimes leave the school, but whenever he did he would need to spend time at Number 4 - he was surprised he had received a Firebolt. Harry had immediately gotten suspicious while he had been ignoring Ron's piggy expression of greed (honestly, he was pleased he had dumped the fool as a friend since he was reminded vividly of Dudley more times than he'd have liked), and he had made his mind up to have it tested. It had been sent by someone whom he didn't know, and he had taken it to the teachers for testing to see if there was anything the matter with it.

The broom had been sent by Sirius Black, and it was essentially harmless. Harry didn't get it. Black had tried to get into the castle before, and he'd angrily slashed the portrait of the Fat Lady while trying to get in. So why would he make such an obvious play? It made little sense.

Harry was tempted to just order a different broomstick in case there was something dodgy about the Firebolt, but when he tested the broom in the air, it performed perfectly. But still, he had prepared a few spells in case anything happened.

In the air, Harry had won the next Quidditch match but strangely enough Black had struck again thanks to that idiot knight Sir Cadogan who threatened to duel anyone who he saw, but since no-other portrait was brave enough to take the Fat Lady's place, he was the only one letting him in because the convict had the list of passwords.

But why would Black focus on Ron when everyone was certain Harry was the target?

It made no sense.

Of course, Ron didn't care. He'd had a brush with death, giving him over ten minutes of fame, but Harry had tuned him out. He didn't give a damn if his ex-best friend had fame or not, but it frustrated him no end Ron milked it over and over again since he could very well have died. Harry had cared more for his studies and for helping Buckbeak. In the end, it was pointless since Buckbeak was sentenced to death, presumably because Lucius Malfoy had bribed or blackmailed the right people.

But when he heard this…Harry had decided to take the law into his own hands. He had gone out to Hagrid's hut, and he had freed the Hippogriff, but unknown to him at the time Ron and Hermione were there, and there was some kind of confrontation between them concerning their pets - Scabbers and Crookshanks apparently did not get along, but he had never been aware of the details. Harry had needed to get the Hippogriff into the forest, surprising Hermione since the Ministry executioner was on the grounds.

The meeting with Black had been as surprising to them as the knowledge there was a passage beneath the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack he'd heard about, but what surprised him the most was the revelation of Peter Pettigrew, the man Black had been arrested for murder on top of the betrayal of the Potters, being alive.

And then the pieces had slotted neatly into place. Pettigrew was a coward, but Harry wondered if the little bastard had known what he had been getting into, and he was sure he had. Unfortunately, two things interrupted the exchange - Lupin and Snape; while the potions master, giving into his never-ending capacity for holding a grudge had been a problem, Harry had stunned him and broken his arm, to the astonishment of both Hermione and Ron. But the presence of the unconscious Snape had posed a problem since he needed to be levitated out.

Harry had needed to tell Lupin to take his potion, and while it was a surprise Dumbledore had hired a werewolf for the third year, Harry felt he owed it to his parents' memories to help the man maintain his cool. Pettigrew had escaped, but because of that precaution, Lupin didn't become a raving beast. Harry had then led Black towards Buckbeak and set the man free. As they worked on getting him away, Sirius had said something that took him by surprise.

Black wanted him to live with him, meaning he'd never have to return to the Dursleys. But at the same time, something else sprang to mind. Black was an animagus himself and while his black dog form was scary, it had been thin enough to fit through the bars of the cell, or small enough to pass through the open door while the Dementors were giving him food. What did he do instead, he waited in Azkaban for twelve years until he saw a picture of Pettigrew in the Daily Prophet on top of Ron's shoulder. That explained why he kept saying "He's at Hogwarts" over and over again, but Harry was hurt since the man who was supposed to be responsible for his wellbeing and health had just left him in favour of getting revenge.

And yet...He didn't really know Sirius Black that well, so he would give the man a chance.

And as he watched Black leave, Harry wondered if he was setting himself up for more disappointments.

He knew he was since the rat had escaped.


	4. Chapter 4 Year Four

The House is like your Family.

When he had been at Muggle primary school, Harry had studied the Roman Empire.

He had been amazed by the fact a massive empire had occupied an impressive slice of the globe, using the indigenous peoples of the countries the Romans had conquered as conscripts for their armies for centuries as they expanded their Empire. At the same time, they had shaped the world with their mastery of engineering, developing aqueducts and roads whose remains lasted in part to this day.

But as he walked back to the castle after dealing with the First Task in the Tri-wizard tournament where he'd outflown a dragon - just - and a dragon who happened to be a member of one of the most powerful and one of the most vicious breeds in the world, Harry was reminded of his fascination in the Roman Empire, specifically the gladiatorial games.

Harry was starting to see there was a huge similarity between himself and the gladiators because every single year he had been at Hogwarts he had been facing one crisis after another, regardless of whether or not he had a notice-me-not charm on him or not (he was especially pleased he had mastered the skill, particularly during this year since it was shaping up to be the worst year he'd had at present; he had three more years at Hogwarts left, but if he had his way his fifth year would be his final year, but only as long as his plans with the OWL and NEWT exams went the way he hoped), he had felt like one of those gladiators.

Harry had never connected the similarities before now, but when he had looked around the arena where he had collected the Golden Egg from that Hungarian Horntail (why, why did witches and wizards really not give a thought about their children? Why did they care only for spectacle?), he had been reminded of the pictures of the arenas where the gladiatorial games had taken place.

But now he was away from the Task after spending a few minutes listening to the complete waste of time coming from that showman idiot Bagman who had this obsession with trying to help him for reasons Harry didn't care for until he had become so bored he had cast a notice-me-not charm, and he had walked off back to the castle with the hope he would finally be left alone.

This year was definitely shaping up to be the worst he'd had so far, topping even his second year despite the fact he had taken steps to ensure he didn't receive the same treatment from his so-called House.

Harry had heard about the events of the Quidditch World Cup, but he hadn't gone. He had lost his interest and fascination in Quidditch shortly after he had almost fallen to his death in his previous year, but he had been losing interest even before that. Harry had instead just left Privet Drive and travelled to London, where he then travelled to Brighton for the rest of his summer, where he had enjoyed himself. He hadn't truly cared if Dumbledore liked the idea of him not being with his relatives; the old wizard had no right in Harry's mind to poke his broken nose into the lives of any of his students to the same extent as he did with Harry.

All he wanted was to be left on his own.

Harry was just…..fed up. What kind of mind would come up with the task of shoving kids, even if they were older than he was in an arena with a dragon? Harry was just thankful Hagrid had sent him a note telling him to come down by his hut at a specific time, but what angered him the most was that Hagrid was so out of touch, he was sure he and Ron were friends even if that hadn't been the case for a long time.

But that anger disappeared when he saw the dragons.

Dragons.

It just seemed….unthinkable to a mind who lived on Planet Earth to have one of those creatures in this contest, but four?

When his fourth year had come around, Harry had been expecting this year to be as chaotic as the previous three. But he hadn't expected a tournament that was bigger than any inter-school competition Harry had heard of before.

The worst news?

Somehow he had been pushed into the Tournament and he was being used by the bait to find out who had done it. Harry had no doubt in his mind no investigation had taken place in finding out who had been responsible. Why would Dumbledore give a damn since he had never done before? But what he didn't understand and could not work out, was why Dumbledore had allowed the rest of the student body to know he hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

All the people in that meeting where Harry had been questioned, well more interrogated and shouted at by everyone else calling him a "leetle boy" or an "attention-seeking liar" until all he wanted to do was slit their throats, but he didn't want to find himself in Azkaban prison even if he felt the deed was justified, had eventually either acknowledged the fact he hadn't put his name in the Goblet.

But the rest of the school?

In his first two years, Harry had come to accept the Gryffindors were no different from the Dursleys. Both refused to listen to him. Both believed he was a liar. Both believed he was a freak.

He'd had ENOUGH!

Ron and the rest of the Weasley's in Gryffindor had either accused him of cheating, destroy his stuff while he calmly noted everything destroyed while he made plans on suing the Weasley family for their destruction - part of the problem in Hogwarts was the teachers and Dumbledore refused to punish anyone who broke the rules, so the fact the Weasley's would be getting a huge bill because Ron and Ginny didn't understand every action had a consequence would be a sledgehammer to the face - and he was pranked by the twins, something else he made sure to sue the family for.

Harry didn't give a damn if he made the stupid family destitute. It would serve them all right if they lost everything.

Granger was just as bad.

She wasn't like the redheads. She kept interrogating him to find out how he had conned his way into the Tournament, but he had kept placing notice-me-not charms over himself and he had moved whatever he had left into a disused classroom where he had access to the kitchens. He wasn't a Gryffindor by that point, and now he had finished his first task, the Gryffindors would likely let him back in.

What, go back into that den of jackals? After they had spent weeks mocking him, bullying him, and destroying what little he owned along with wearing those stupid badges Malfoy had come up within his childish little excuse for a brain?

Fuck that!

He wanted nothing to do with the Gryffindors anymore. He was on his own.

Harry sighed as he thought about his waste-of-space godfather. Sirius hadn't contacted him once, not even when he had written to the man hoping he would see through the lines, see he was desperate.

Harry sometimes wondered if things would have been better if he had never met Sirius. The man was useless. Not once had the man bothered to send him any mail offering to help, so in the end

XXX

He couldn't believe it.

McGonagall had spent a whole month ignoring everything going on with her own House, unaware he was no longer sleeping in Gryffindor tower anymore, and she still thought she could speak to him as if nothing had happened like she hadn't ignored everything going on, and now telling him he had to find a date for some stupid ball.

Now he knew why the school list for this year said to bring dress robes, but Harry was tempted not to go. He couldn't care less if he shamed or disgraced Hogwarts by not going, or if he looked childish in the eyes of the rest of the Champions. He was just tired of this waste of time.

Harry sat down in the disused classroom and rested his head in his hands. He wondered what he was going to do.


	5. Chapter 5 Year Five

The House is like your Family.

It figured he thought to himself after he had left Dumbledore's office after he'd learnt of the damn prophecy. It just figured. At the start of the year, Harry had been coping with the summer of knowing Voldemort was back and yet there was an information embargo, although truthfully despite what some might think Harry wasn't really bothered about that since he had received enough newspapers. In the last war, the Death Eaters and their psychotic master were wiping out dozens of families in the same manner as greedy industrialists and farmers went out to the rainforests, and decimated hundreds upon hundreds of acres in a single day until there was nothing but a wasteland.

At first, Harry had expected the Dark Lord to have announced his return with the same sick tactics, but Voldemort wasn't on the move and although it had surprised Harry a little bit at first, it wasn't until he'd actually put some thought into the reasons that it began to make sense.

Voldemort wasn't stupid. He knew he didn't have the right number of people to join him as his followers, ready to destroy the magical world and replacing it with a sick parody of itself with him in charge, although what he planned to do in the long term he had no idea he knew it was nothing good. Voldemort was currently gathering his forces, and when they were ready no-one would be able to stand up to him.

The Ministry certainly wouldn't - Fudge was spending all of his time stating that he, Harry, was an attention-seeking liar (the logic didn't really make sense; why would he lie about something this vital?) and that Voldemort wasn't back. From a political perspective, it made sense for Fudge to take this stance since it would be a disaster to announce Voldemort's return.

Unfortunately, it would destroy him.

Harry didn't know what was going to happen to Fudge when he'd sat in the small bedroom in Privet Drive when he'd had nothing better to do with his time except think when Voldemort showed himself at the time, but if he was honest he didn't care. Fudge wasn't his problem. Nor was the potential loss of life in the magical world. He had worked out for himself, he wasn't going to say a word about the return of Voldemort and for a whole year he had kept that promise. He'd had to deal with the scorn and the toad-shaped cloud of doom from the Ministry which was Umbridge, but a few notice-me-not charms, and he was practically unseen and unbothered.

The reasons for his decision were simple. No-one had believed him in the past when he'd tried to claim something, and it wasn't until it was too late before they realised he was telling the truth. Harry doubted it made any difference if it happened again. In any case, he knew it was the truth. While it was frustrating, to say the least, that no-body was using their common sense, and realising he might be telling the truth, Harry knew Voldemort would come out of hiding sooner or later. In the meantime, he himself would be preparing.

But he'd needed to get away from the Dursleys.

After being incarcerated in Privet Drive for a fortnight and having to put up with Sirius sending him useless letters telling him to stay put and to keep his head down, Harry had left Number 4 anyway. He doubted Voldemort would be stupid enough to draw attention to himself by either sending one of his Death Eaters to Privet Drive or coming personally since the Dark Lord was still trying to gather his forces.

In any case, while the Dark Lord had probably been laughing his head off with what the Daily Prophet was printing about him, he knew the sudden loss of Harry Potter would be a blow to the magical world and would send up red flags in the right places, and even Voldemort knew it was a bad decision to do something like that.

Getting permission to leave Privet Drive was easy - the Dursleys didn't want him around anyway, and as long as he didn't tell the muggles anything they wouldn't know of the potential danger; while Dumbledore and the other flunkies the old man had around him to stroke his ego would say leaving his relatives was dangerous and risky, Harry did not care since he needed to get some time to himself, and being around with the Dursleys was detrimental. He wanted to be by himself without the wizarding world getting in his face.

Harry decided to travel to Australia by using the gold he'd gotten from the killing of the basilisk to pay for his ticket. He left about two days before the Dementors came, although he wasn't to know that until much later when he returned. But he'd had fun in Australia, and when he had come back after spending three weeks there, he'd only had a few days like he'd expected and planned to get his Hogwarts stuff and board the train without anyone knowing.

At school, he had needed to deal with the looks from McGonagall and Dumbledore, as well as the looks of anticipation from Umbridge. Harry hadn't really shown much sorrow for the Dursleys, who had been kissed by the Dementors, although he had been furious McGonagall had told him if he hadn't left Privet Drive then it wouldn't have happened, and it showed him to be childishly rebellious. Harry had ignored the old biddy, and he had just gotten along with his life as an outcast.

Harry sighed as he remembered the long months he'd had to endure Umbridge trying, and failing, to get him into detention. He'd had an awful suspicion of why she was in Hogwarts, and he refused to give her the satisfaction even if he was quickly bored of the bound piece of toilet paper she called a defence book. The fool who wrote it was certifiable and needed to be sterilised, or lobotomised for the good of the human race. Did people really think if you tried speaking to a dark wizard, offering it tea and cakes, it would be a good solution?

Harry had just read the book. In private, he would practice with offensive and defensive magic. He had done that on top of studying for his OWLs and his NEWTs. He wasn't going to let the teachers, especially someone who had been sent personally by Fudge himself, to get in the way of his plans for freedom. He also ignored Hermione's attempts to start a group aimed at improving their defence abilities.

He had to admit it had been tempting at first, but truthfully he didn't want to get involved since he knew the students wouldn't want his help anyway. And besides - sooner or later, Voldemort's return would change things, and it should be the wakeup call everyone needed. Some might call him childish for condemning everyone for the actions of a few, but he didn't care. It was time for everyone to wake the hell up and gain some perspective.

This was the real world.

Everyone believed the real world was one where they could do what they want, and not think about what awaited them outside. If they were hopeless outside, why should he care?

It wasn't until Christmas everything changed, and ironically Voldemort was the one who had given it to him on a plate; the means to get out of this life of purgatory.

Harry had decided to put his plans to sue the Weasley family for damages on hold, at least for now. He was going to do it later, especially since Ron had almost destroyed his Invisibility cloak. Why did the stupid family look at him as if it was his fault for what happened to Arthur Weasley? It wasn't his fault the Weasley patriarch had been doing guard duty for God knew what, although now he knew it was the prophecy.

But the good thing was Harry had raised the alarm. As he solemnly walked through the castle, Harry thought about how he had gone to St. Mungo's to see someone about the scar when he had gone with the Weasleys. He remembered how sick he was of having to cope with Voldemort's visions and his activities and dealing with the mess afterwards. He also remembered how everyone in the Order had treated him as a pariah and believed he would turn on them.

Even Sirius, his so-called godfather had joined in, and he was on his own. Harry had tried to research what was in his scar, but since he had so little go on, he'd had no alternative but to see a healer. And he had. He was thankful the healers there had found the soul leech, and it was the best idea he'd had since the diagnosis had certainly gone a long way to paving the way to the end of Voldemort.

Harry was also thankful for healer-patient confidentiality, but what he was most happy about was how the healers had removed the leech and with it, they could drain the Horcruxes Voldemort had made. They did say curse breakers were the only ones who could do that or the goblins. Just….just the thought of Voldemort splitting his soul apart made him sick, but to Harry, it seemed logical since Voldemort was diseased.

Harry had no intention of trusting Bill Weasley with this information. He remembered the letter he'd received from the goblins telling him they would help for a fee. It would dent his finances, but it would be worth it. Especially if Voldemort died.

Anyway, after the vision, Dumbledore, in his wisdom, had pushed him into occlumency lessons with Snape. The man didn't deserve the title of teacher, especially since he had been trying to hammer his way past Harry's occlumency barriers. But he had only just managed to repel the greasy teachers' attempts. Harry was thankful he'd learnt occlumency, and while he was annoyed his secret was out, at least Voldemort wouldn't try to drive his way into his mind.

Harry grimaced as he thought of Voldemort's attack on the Ministry last night. The Daily Prophet had recorded the mess, and how a group of Aurors and the department head herself had gone to the Ministry to investigate the disturbance, only to encounter Voldemort. But what the bastard was doing there in the first place, no-one knew, except perhaps Dumbledore. Though Harry suspected that corridor he'd seen was key as well, but it wasn't his problem any more even if Dumbledore had told him about the prophecy.

His grimace became worse even though he knew now why Dumbledore was so fixated on him and why Voldemort wouldn't leave him alone. It explained a great deal; the loss of his parents, how Voldemort had hunted him, Dumbledore's placement of him at Privet Drive in order to raise someone who shared some aspects of Voldemort's own past, the annoying placement in Divination when he wanted to study something more practical, and the occlumency lessons.

He was also able to read between the lines.

Dumbledore had been shaping his life to match the lines of the prophecy. Harry could see it now, but he knew in a few days time it would not make the slightest bit of difference. His OWLs were finished, now all he needed to worry about were his NEWTs.

Nothing else mattered.


	6. Chapter 6 Mirror Call

The last chapter.

Please let me know what you think and thank you for reading and enjoying what I've written.

Happy Christmas.

* * *

The House is like your Family.

Harry was watching television when he received the call from the mirror. He looked up in surprise when he heard it, and he checked his watch.

"Mm," he muttered thoughtfully, "took them a little longer than I thought."

The mirror went off again, more urgently and impatiently this time.

Harry sighed as he reached for it. "Alright, I'm coming," he grumbled impatiently before he raised his voice clearly. "Sirius Black!"

The image on the mirror shifted from his own reflection to the annoyed expression of his so-called godfather. "Hello, Sirius," Harry decided to put it on thick with the innocence. "How are you?"

"Don't give me that, Harry! How did you do it, how did you get your OWLs and your NEWTs at the same time and leave Hogwarts?"

"Simple; I studied hard," Harry drawled.

Movement in the mirror made him sigh and he realised Sirius was not alone. "Who's with you, Sirius? I saw movement just now."

Sirius sighed this time, and he shifted the mirror around and Harry groaned when he caught sight of the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. All of the members looked disgruntled, although why was beyond Harry's comprehension right at that second.

Harry turned to look at Sirius. "A mass meeting? Really, Sirius."

"Never mind that," Dumbledore's voice broke through the conversation and there was a bit of fumbling from the other side. Harry closed his eyes when he heard the feeble protests from his godfather, and he tuned it out until he heard Dumbledore's voice. At which point he opened his eyes and found himself looking at Albus Dumbledore's wizened expression. Dumbledore looked angry, but Harry wasn't concerned about that.

"What is the meaning of this, Harry?! You are not safe that, my boy," the old wizard said, grasping at straws. "You have a duty to the magical world-!"

"No, I don't. Why should I? What duty do I have now? Can't you people live without someone holding onto your hands like you're all a bunch of children waiting for their parents? The wizarding world can go hang for all I care. In any case, didn't you think that one day I'd wise up, and want to leave? Just to live my life, without any of you poking your noses in? You've got no legitimate reason to want me around anymore," Harry snapped back. "Voldemort and his followers are gone. It's a proven fact, especially since the Death Eaters are now squibs. I had the soul leech removed from my scar, and the goblins are more than happy to help, unlike you."

Dumbledore gasped, but since the view in the mirror was fixed straight into the old wizard's eyes, Harry couldn't see the reaction from the others in the room. "How did you find out about that?" he demanded.

Harry paused, wondering if he should just tell the old wizard the truth without giving him much to go on, but he knew Dumbledore had probably been so fixated on the plan he'd had, that now he knew it was forfeited he would probably tear the magical world apart to find out the answers he had.

"I went to St. Mungo's," Harry decided to admit, "I was so tired of being treated like a pariah; I never asked to suffer those fucking visions from Voldemort," he paused when he heard the loud shouts from Molly Weasley for his language and for saying the Dark Lord's name but he tuned her out and carried on as if she hadn't said a word, "so it was hardly my fault I got them. But you could have gotten me seen to, but no. You had to drop me off in the middle of the night and then went off without a care in the world."

"Harry," Dumbledore's voice was thick with the grandfatherly manner he had learnt very quickly to despise. "There was nothing I could do-."

"Nothing _you _could do, but not the same for others," Harry interrupted, pointing out the flaw in Dumbledore's logic. He shook his head. "When will you ever stop thinking that just because _you _can't do anything, or you don't know _anything, _others can't grasp it? Anyway, I had it removed, and it was used to drain the others."

Dumbledore's face paled, but over the mirror, Harry could hear the sounds of mutters, but the old wizard was muttering, "It's impossible" over and over again so Harry couldn't clearly make it out.

"When the Horcruxes were drained," Harry grinned when he heard the roars of outrage from what sounded like Moody and Sirius combined, but when he saw the uncomfortable and outraged look in Dumbledore's expression, Harry knew the old wizard was going to have a lot of explaining to do, but he didn't care, not one little bit, "Voldemort leeched off of the Death Eaters, and they died out as well. No-one will miss them, and I don't see why I need to return to Britain."

"You are still not a fully trained wizard, Harry-!"

Harry laughed scornfully. "Fuck that!" he cheered, smirking when he heard the cries from the other side. "You can't pull that one, Headmaster and you know it. I've gotten my OWLs, my NEWTs, and I've already gotten two masteries. I can hardly have those if I wasn't qualified, would I?"

Dumbledore expression was the colour of cold porridge. "You have two masteries?" he whispered. "What are they?"

"Mind your own business!" Harry snapped.

"Harry-!"

"No, why should I tell you, the man who has spent so long manipulating my life? Pushing me into one crisis after another which nearly got me killed like I was a gladiator fighting the lions?" Harry was heaving with rage while he tried his best not to shout or yell since he didn't want to disturb the other guests in the hotel. "What's wrong, oh Caligula? We who are about to die, salute you, isn't that why you kept pushing me into those 'adventures' where I'd either deal with Voldemort, Dementors, or Basilisks? Just tell me why you are so obsessed with me? I just want to be left on my own. I want to enjoy myself, travel the world and see the sights. I want to meet new people. There's nothing wrong with anything like that, so why try to stop me?!"

Dumbledore was shaken by the rant. Harry noticed he didn't answer the question.

Harry shook his head. "Goodbye, Headmaster. Try not to kill any more kids. Hmm."

"Harry, why didn't you say anything? I'd have helped," Sirius protested over the older wizards shoulder.

"When? When you joined the others and said I would become Voldemort or was a spy for the bastard when Arthur Weasley was put into St. Mungo's?" Harry shook his head, hating to do this, but he needed Black to understand where they now stood. "Or when you spent twelve years of your life trapped in Azkaban waiting on the off chance you'd learn of Wormtail again when you could very easily have slipped away in your animagus form?"

Sirius looked stricken. "But…but I helped you?"

"When?" Harry countered simply. "When I was stuck in the Tri-wizard tournament? How many times did I ask for help? Gee, I don't remember? Er, how many times did you get back to me?" he pretended to be thoughtful. "Oh, yeah - None! Why should I trust you now?"

With that, he cut off the connection and the image in the mirror returned to his own reflection. Harry sighed and he put the mirror away, feeling that was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Despite how he felt about Sirius, Harry wished things between the pair of them was better than they actually were. He wished he and the other man were closer, but Harry wasn't sure why that wasn't the case.

No matter.

He still had his life to lead, and it would not have Sirius in it, much to his regret, but since the man had chosen revenge and his own life over his responsibilities, Harry would not miss him much.

As for Dumbledore…Well, Harry hoped the old man met his end soon, and he also hoped the old man got into his head he was not going to go back to Britain. And the wizarding world? Well, he might probably visit other communities, but that was it.

Harry was still young, and if in the end, he decided he preferred living alone, then so be it. But he wouldn't let that stop him having fun.


End file.
